It's hard to head up to Monday without having thoughts about love on the brain.

I don't think I knew what real love was until almost out of college, and I don't think I really understood it until recently.

Love is not passion, or lust, though it certainly can come with it. Love is quieter, more serene. It's not about possession or wanting, but about letting go and giving.

Like I said in my comments a couple days ago over lovesickness and violence from being rejected, real love isn't about you and your needs. It's about what's best for the person you love, including separation. If you really love a person, you want to support them and help them, be there for them when they need you, not trying to control them, or smother them.

I know that, though often I find it easier to preach than to practice. Sometimes you want a thing so badly you do stupid, bad things you know you shouldn't. You're not acting from love, but selfishness.

Real love lets you wait in the rain for someone and not care. Real love makes you smile everytime you see their face, no matter what your mood was before. It makes you constantly think, "What can I do to make their life better?" It doesn't doesn't care if they don't feel the same about you as you do about them. And it certainly doesn't get mad about it.

I've come to know passion too late and lust too often, but hopefully not too late for love. And certainly not too often.

Real love is the most special thing ever; a rare gem that doesn't appear or last long enough.